


The Art of Forgiveness

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: The Art of the Fallen [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Fallen Angels, Insane Lucifer, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Michael-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael doesn't want to be forgiven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Forgiveness

“I don’t blame you,” Castiel says, slowly, as he doesn’t quite believe it himself. “I don’t,” he adds, stronger this time.

 

_And once more with feeling,_ Michael thinks. “Leave me,” he says instead, before he does something thoughtless like trying to kill his arrogant, tiny, insignificant _blip_ of a brother.

 

“I forgive you,” Castiel adds, and it sounds so much like goodbye that he wants to throw himself at the bars and _beg_ to take the younger angel up on the offer he’d turned down just moments ago.

 

“That’s because you won,” Michael responds bitterly, biting back every protest of _I don’t want to be forgiveness,_ _I don’t deserve forgiveness_ because that would be unseemly ( _unforgivable_ , some merciless part of him adds) and pride is all he has left in this life.

 

“I love you,” Castiel whispers, voice breaking with every sharp-edged lie contained within those three words. _Last chance_ goes unspoken.

 

And Michael knows he’ll regret it a thousand, a million, a _billion_ years from now, but his pride bids him to be silent so he bites his tongue and turns away, half-praying that Castiel will have mercy on him and drag him out anyway, back up to the surface, back into the light where the world is beautiful and warm and joyful, back, back, all the way back to before this all started, so he can make this right.

 

He doesn’t realize Castiel has begun his assent until Lucifer – so different, now, so unlike the brother he used to _worship_ – slithers up to him, cradling a star in his hand. “Play with me?” The thing that used to be his brother begs, all ruined innocence and casual cruelty.

 

And, Michael – sign of the cross, one two three, damn his soul – smiles and says, “Yes.” 


End file.
